


Old Wounds

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can't lose him again, all because he's never told him he's sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Wounds

Title: Old wounds.  
Word Count: 3,484  
Warning: Season 8 spoilers, lots!  
Characters/pairings: Dean/Sam, Kevin Tran.  
Rating: NC-17  
Summary: Dean can't lose him again, all because he's never told him he's sorry.

 

Dean throws his whole weight into dragging Sam from the church, mindful of how fragile his little brother feels.

'You know, when I look back at what our family's been through, what everybody's been through, seeing all that pain... I realize that the only way we've made it through it all is by hanging together.'

He tries, and fails, to ignore the sounds of pain coming from Sam. He all but fireman lifts him against the side of the impala.

'I trust you, Sammy. With this deal, locking those sons of bitches up in the furnace once and for all, it's too important not to. So if you say you're good... ...then that's it. I'm with you 100%.'

Cupping Sam's cheek, willing him to open his eyes, "Sam? I got you, little brother. You're gonna be just fine "

Dean watches, thick black tendrils of dread curling round his lungs, making it almost impossible to breath, "Sam, Sam?"

He calls out to Cas, begs him to appear, knowing that he won't.

He's on his own, they're on their own. Again. Sam's half dead and Dean doesn't know whether to scream, cry or hoist him over his shoulders and into the relative safety of the car. He's afraid he'll break something if he does. Sam looks about ready to shatter, "Sammy!"

He looks to the sky, hears Sam gasping, but can't tear his eyes away from the horrifying yet beautiful sight of thousands upon thousands of Angels falling, falling and falling and hitting the ground like missiles with sparkle.

Sam coughs, shudders against Dean, "What's happening?"

'You know... I'm starting to think maybe I was being naive.  
What are you talking about?  
When I said that I could just will myself into coming out of these trials unscathed.'

Dean reaches back, hooks a hand behind Sam's head, stops him from hitting himself against the door of the car during the violent coughing fit, "The angels, they're falling"

It takes Dean a full twenty seconds and he's up and on his feet and yanking Sam with him. They can't stay here. He's not sure if Sam's bleeding out, on the inside, where he can't stitch him up, but they need to get back to the bunker. Somewhere with a concrete roof to stop them getting a face full of fallen douche bag.

"Come on Sammy, up, open your eyes. We gotta move!"

Sam's sprawled out on the back seat as Dean throws himself behind the wheel. Ignoring the whining squeal of the engine as he harshly shoves his baby into gear. Right now, Sam's all that matters. He'll fix the ripped gears later, "Stay with me brother, stay with me baby boy!"

Sam's coughing and groaning and holding his stomach like his insides are threatening to become his outsides.

Dean hasn't felt this level of panic for a long time. Not since he'd watched Sam being strung out and tied down to a hospital bed, drool hanging from his slack lips.

The entire drive back, Dean has one hand on the wheel, one arm over the seat, hand squeezing Sam's leg. Grappling for some solid contact that tells him his brother's still breathing, still with him.

God what an idiot. What a royal fucking idiot he's been.

Of course Sam'd chosen to take these trials on. Of course it was because he thought Dean was disappointed in him.

His face screws up in disgust, at himself, at Sam's image of himself through Dean's eyes. Remembering Sam's face, his words as Dean'd begged him not to do this. Not to leave him.

'No, it's exactly what you meant. You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down. I can't do that again.'

Jesus. How many times had Dean all but forced Sam to sit and listen as Dean listed the ways in which he was disappointed with him, disgraced by the thought of Sam screwing up again.

He didn't mean it. None of it! He never did. He always kicked himself after. Always felt like he was no better than their father, "Sam. Sammy, open your eyes. Stay with me, don't you wink out. We're nearly home, don't fall asleep. Open your fucking eyes!"

But he could never bring himself to actually say it. That'd show weakness. Winchester's don't show weakness. Not even when faced with someone they'd throw themselves in front of a truck for, needing them to open up, to say everything they've been holding in for how many years.

Dean's always been the fuck and make up kinda guy. Never actually says sorry, just lets his dick do the talking.

The amount of times he'd wrecked Sam and instead of just looking him in the eye and apologising, he'd ripped his clothes off and fucked the answer into his skin.

Now, his brother could well be on his way out and all Dean can think is, why didn't I tell him! Why didn't I just say I didn't believe everything I've ever told him!

"Dean"

Dean almost drives them off the road, "Yeah Sammy, I'm here"

"I'm cold"

That's it, no single speed limit is gonna stop him from shagging ass til his tyres melt and his rims are bent. He needs Sam back at the bunker, now, "Hold on baby boy, nearly there. Keep your eyes on me, 'kay!"

When Dean finally screeches to a halt outside the bunker, Sam's got blood dripping from his mouth and he can't hold his head up, "Come on Sam, gotta get you indoors"

Dean bodily lifts Sam from the backseat, cradling his too large form against his own ruined and tired body. He just about manages to kick the door shut, drag the key into the lock and holler for Kevin, "KEVIN, Kevin, little help!"

Kevin comes legging it into the hallway, gurney already being shoved before him. God bless that annoying nerdy kid, "Thanks man, we gotta get him somewhere warm, and I need to clean him up, check if he's actually gonna flake out on me"

Kevin slams the front door, steadies the gurney and helps Dean lay Sam out on it properly, "There's a scanner unit other side of the ritual room. Found it last week when I was hunting for something. God knows how old it is, still fires up though"

Dean nods and motions for the prophet to lead the way, all the while keeping a hand on Sam's shoulder. Solid contact. That's all he needs.

Sam groans and tries to curl into a ball, "Dean...shit Dean, hurts"

Another cough, another mouthful of blood, "So tired. Just need to..."

His eyes drift closed and Dean prays for forgiveness for what he's about to do. Simultaneously shoving the gurney and keeping an eye on Kevin's retreating back, Dean slaps Sam as hard as he can round the face, "Wake the fuck up!"

Kevin leads them into a brightly lit surgical looking room. It's got equipment in it that looks almost turn of the century. Not for the first time Dean wonders where the hell these dudes got everything they needed, but he ain't looking this one in the mouth.

Kevin fires up a hefty looking piece of machinery, an arch over a metal table with a screen on it that looks like it should be made out of granite.

"Sammy, gotta move you. It's gonna hurt"

Dean sees Sam grit his teeth and brace himself for the pain. He slides his hands under his brother and winces as Sam cries out, it's animalistic, heart wrenching. It's almost too much, Dean hates seeing Sam in pain, let alone being the one inflicting it. All his instincts kick in to fight the thing hurting his baby brother.

Settling him length ways under the arch, Dean nods for Kevin to start doing whatever it is he needs to do to figure out if Sam's insides are toast.

Clicking and flicking buttons and switches. Dean doesn't bother with the screen, simply watches Kevin's face, waiting for any hint of what they're up against. When he hisses over his teeth and looks away from the machine, Dean's brain kicks into overdrive, "What. What! What's wrong!"

Stepping slightly backwards, knowing that Dean does on occasion shoot the poor messenger, he indicates towards the screen and then looks pityingly at Sam, "He....he's bruised like someone kicked the hell out of him. His lungs, liver, kidneys. Everything's swollen, out of whack"

"What does that mean, come on man, English, for the peanut gallery"

"He's gonna heal, the readout says he'll heal, but he'll be in a lot of pain, for a long time. He's gonna be coughing blood for a while. And if he doesn't get something substantial in his system he's not gonna make it to healing. He's practically been starving himself. Not sure his stomach can take the solids though"

Dean runs a hand through Sam's hair, bites down on his lip when Sam grinds his teeth and grunts, "Okay, food, time, okay, we can do that. I need to get him upstairs, get him cleaned up"

Kevin nods, turns the machine off, goes to help Dean with Sam's weight but Dean gives him a look and he backs off, "I'll be...I'll be in the library, in the archives if you need me. Still trying to figure out what the hell happened out there"

"I stopped him"

"What, why!!"

"It was gonna kill him. I couldn't....I'm not loosing him. World or not, slamming the gates for good or not, I wasn't about to let him bite it"

Kevin's always known they'd do anything for each other, but now he's gotta sift through shit and figure out how to fix this thing, this complete fuck up, "Right, just, shout if you need me, 'kay?"

"Thanks"

Kevin leaves. Dean waits until he can no longer hear footsteps, leans down over the table, hooks a hand under Sam's legs, one under his shoulders, and heaves, "Oh god! Fuck, Dean"

"I know Sammy, I know. We'll get you fixed up. Just gotta get you upstairs. Think you can walk?"

Sam nods, let's Dean slide him upright and leans heavily against his brother's side, "I can try"

Between the pair of them, Sam huffing and gasping, Dean taking it as slow as possible, they manage to get him into the rickety lift and upstairs to their bathroom.

Dean perches Sam on the toilet, steadies him, makes sure he's got something to hold onto, then goes to run a bath.

Once the water's high enough in the tub, Dean goes to Sam, starts trying to remove his clothes, but Sam's hand on Dean's brings him up short, "Dean, don't, I can..."

Dean hasn't seen him naked in weeks, not since Sam'd figured out that the trials were slowly eating away at him. He couldn't risk Dean seeing the state his emaciated body had gotten in and bringing a halt to the whole thing.

The last thing he wants is Dean seeing him like this. He hasn't looked in a mirror for days, afraid of what he'd see, but he knows, he can feel his ribs poking through his skin, he knows he's got bruises and dark circles ringing his entire body.

"Sammy, don't be a jerk, you can barely keep your eyes open"

"But I...we..."

Dean cups Sam's cheek, runs the pad of his thumb around the dark circle under his brother's eye and smiles grimly, "You don't think I don't know why? Come on Sammy how long we been at this. I know you better than I know me some days. Look, I get it, I get why you didn't want me to see you, I'd have kicked your ass for letting it get this bad. Don't think I haven't seen you though. We share a bed Sam. No amount of sweat pants and long sleeved shirts was gonna stop me from spotting what a mess you'd become"

Sam sighs, leans into the touch, turns his head and kisses the palm of Dean's hand, "Okay, just, don't look too disgusted. And I can't handle a lecture right now"

As if to punctuate the point, Sam coughs, hold his ribs at the same time as trying to cover his mouth, his hand comes away covered in blood.

"Right, arms up"

Dean strips Sam, gently as he can. First the shirts, then he gets him to stand, lean on his shoulder, manages to peel the grimy jeans away from his brothers legs. Finally the boxers and Sam is completely naked.

Dean sucks in a breath, has to stop from stepping away form his brother who's still using him as a crutch, "Jesus Sam!"

Sam's ribs are clearly visible beneath his blotchy and bruised skin. His legs, whilst still muscled, are skinnier than they've been in years. Dean can see the points of his shoulders, he hasn't been able to see those since Sam was 10.

His skin is a myriad of different shades of bruise. One big assed mottled bruise, "Fuck, why didn't you tell me!"

"Couldn't. You'd have made me stop"

Turning towards the tub, Dean helps Sam limp over to the warm water, "Damn fucking straight I would! You complete ass hat Sammy. No amount of hell closing was ever worth this"

Helping Sam's first foot into the scalding water, Dean shifts slightly, lowers his brother until he's completely submerged. Making quick work of his own clothes, Dean motions for Sam to shift, "Shove over sasquatch!!"

Sam doesn't even look like he's gonna argue, he just hasn't got the energy. If he's honest, he's desperate to feel Dean's heat against his back. He hasn't had any decent human contact in what feels like forever. For a pair of men used to bumping uglies like horny teens, a month without even holding each other in bed was getting too much for Sam to deal with.

Dean lowers himself into the tub, sliding his legs along the outside of Sam's. Nestling his cock in the cleft of Sam's ass, he steadfastly ignores the twitch it gives in response. Sam's in no state for that.

Sam musters up enough energy to chuckle, "Really, Dean? Even though I look like a death camp inhabitant"

"Hey, you could have two heads and a wart on the end of your nose. Little brain would still think you were munch-able Sammy. Sorry man"

Sam shakes his head and lets Dean start rubbing gentle circles along his shoulders with the wash cloth, "It's fine, nice to know actually. I could be totally grotesque and still you'd wanna lay me"

"Shut up, jackass"

Sam falls silent and tries to disguise the involuntary twitches of pain. Dean does his best not to hurt him, ever so gently erasing the grime and blood from Sam's flesh. Hissing as if it's him in pain every time Sam cringes away or winces.

"Sorry Sammy, gotta get you clean. Last thing we need on top of you not being able to walk is a bloody infection somewhere"

Finished with his back, Dean tugs slightly on Sam's shoulder until he's resting against Dean's chest. Head lolling back into the curve of Dean's shoulder.

Dean goes to work on Sam's front, reaching round, pulling first one leg then the other out of the water so he can bathe away the evidence of Sam's almost sacrifice. Methodical and single minded, Dean cleanses every inch of Sam, until Sam is almost asleep against Dean's shoulder.

Dean's just finishing up with Sam's hips when he feels rather than hears Sam moan, "Sorry"

Sam shakes his head slightly, "That wasn't pain, Dean"

"Oh...Oh! No, Sammy, come on, you can barely breath. No way you've got the energy to..."

Sam's shoulder's slump and Dean kicks himself, "Come on man, it's not that I don't want to. You aren't the only one who's been blue balling it lately. But I'm not gonna bend you over the sink when I'll only end up having to treat you for a concussion when you pass out on me"

"I just....it's been so long, Dean..."

Dean smirks to himself. Even half comatose the guy can illicit a reaction out of him. Damn.

Reaching round, dipping his hand below the water, Dean slides his fingers along the underside of Sam's cock. Tracing the vein, base to tip. Sam's hips buck and Dean's cock bucks with them, "Dean...please"

"Fine, but you, stay still. Just...what is it the Brits say, lay back and think of England. No exertion for you buddy, okay!"

Sam sighs, opens his legs as wide as they'll go butted up against Dean's thighs, and lets his head lay fully back against his brother's shoulder, "No complaints from me"

Dean chuckles and taps Sam's knee, "Don't get used to it"

Dean's cock is snug against the cleft of Sam's ass, and as Dean rings his thumb and finger around Sam's cock, he jerks forward and down and Dean's eyes almost fall out, "Jesus Sammy, that's not staying still"

"So sue me...."

Dean wraps his whole hand round Sam's now fully erect cock, squeezes and starts to pump his fist, slowly, almost too slowly for Sam.

He can barely even make out the feel of the bath tub, his body is so broken, but Dean's fingers are burning their mark into his flesh and he can't stop himself lacing his fingers between Dean's.

As Dean builds the burn, drags Sam along to his orgasm, an orgasm he's sure is gonna be equal parts pain and pleasure, Sam starts thrusting his hips, grinding his ass into Dean's cock.

The two sets of fingers making Sam pant and writhe, speed up.

Dean's very aware that he may end up with Sammy passed out on him in the tub anyway's. It's been weeks since the guy got off and he's not exactly in peak physical condition, "Careful baby boy, don't wanna hurt you"

Sam grinds down against Dean's cock, making his brother groan, "Nearly there Dean...I'm gonna..."

As the building tension almost breaks the surface, Dean twists and squeezes his fist once more, a little more harshly than he'd intended, and feels Sam's whole body go rigor rigid. One, two, three seconds and Sam's practically howling as Dean sees his toes curl, trying to find purchase on the slippery marble, "That's it, let it all out"

As Sam's orgasm finally subsides, Dean's hits him like a freight train. The feel of Sam falling limp and languid in his arms, sated after no decent physical contact for weeks, tips Dean head long over his own little precipice.

Slamming his head back into the tub, Dean waits for his breathing to even out before speaking, "Come on Jolly Green, we gotta get you into bed"

The satisfied sound Sam makes, despite the obvious pain of movement, makes Dean shake his head and tut, "No, Sammy. That's your lot. For now at least. Gotta get you better before I wreck you again!"

Sam's disappointment is only for show, Dean can tell just that one orgasm cost him dearly in terms of already lacking energy. He manages to wrangle them both out the bath and into soft white towels. Ignoring his own damp body, he pats Sam dry, manoeuvres him towards their bed and slides them both below the top sheet.

Tucking the edges around them both, Dean lets Sam snuggle into his side, deciding he'll give him shit for being a girl later.

'Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy...come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you.'

"Sammy?"

His voice is sleep filled and muzzy, "Yea Dean"

"I meant it you know"

"What?"

"What I said, there isn't anything or anyone else. You're not a second choice, or an afterthought and you aren't the reason we've had so much shit on our shoulders for the last 8 years. It's only ever been you baby boy. That's never gonna change. And I...I'm...I'm sorry. For making you think otherwise"

Dean feels Sam curl in tighter, heave a great sigh and nod, "I know, now"

They say nothing more after that. Dean waiting for Sam to drift fully away before letting sleep claim him. Making sure, not for the first or the last time, that Sammy is safe and in his arms.


End file.
